


An Unlikely Journey

by Caffeine (givemecaffeine)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Gen, Human Noble Origin, Magic, Modern Boy in Thedas, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sarcasm, Spiders, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-03-16 15:55:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13639482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givemecaffeine/pseuds/Caffeine
Summary: You know how the story goes... the Hero of Ferelden kills the Archdemon, stops the Blight and saves the day with the help of their lovely companions.  Only this time there was someone else.Your average modern day boy gets flung into the Fade by forces unknown and with a little help arrives on Thedas. Never wanting to get involved with the Wardens, all he wanted to do was go home, but he might find he no longer has a choice.Trapped in a world he knows well, surrounded by what was once fantasy. Can he make a difference and escape the consequences? Set on a dangerous path, with his newfound strength, can he become the hope the world so desperately needs?Disclaimer: The world and characters are property of Bioware. My OC only plays around in there.





	1. Through the Land of Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter was meant as prologue to the main story.

Green. In the short moments when he could keep his eyes open all he could see was green. The sky was green. Falling in and out of consciousness. The rocks were green. Violent flashes of light, like a storm in the distance with lightning constantly striking. The light was green. He seemed to stay awake for longer now.

His body felt weird. He could not place it. He couldn't open his eyes. He couldn't feel anything under his back. He wasn't laying down on anything. It was almost like... he was floating, but how? Now that he noticed he could feel warm breeze over his skin, moving in waves over his body as he soared through the air.

It felt strange, the air. Devoid of smell. With every breath he could almost taste something in the back of his throat. Something he has never tasted before, yet it was there, a sharp sensation prickling his tongue. He ignored the feeling for the time being.

Next, he noticed the eerie quiet. The silence felt almost solid, only broken by some incoherent whispering, barely audible, yet disturbing. He should be hearing the storm, the wind howling, but instead there was just this sound he assumed to be words.

His head was hurting. It was hurting in this familiar way as if he stayed up all night and then when trying to fall asleep during the morning hours the headache would keep him up. With every breath he took the pain intensified. Now it was getting to the point where he felt as though he had drunk way too much coffee to cope with an all-nighter. Worse and worse the pain outgrew being a simple annoyance, moving to the forefront of his mind. He tried to reach out with his hand as if that would help. Hoping that rubbing his temples, anything really at this point, would help alleviate his suffering. Strangely though he found his hands stuck in a position he assumed was resting at his sides. He couldn't move. He panicked.

Whole body tensing as he struggled with the feeling of almost complete immobility. His muscles tightened and relaxed, but he was only able to move the slightest amount before being pulled back into the previous position. The air, it seemed to resist his movements. It felt like being submerged in honey or tar really. When the initial panic subsided, he gave up his struggle, resigned to keep floating in this strange place. Perhaps he would reach something eventually, something to use as leverage and free himself of this... glue he seemed to be encased in.

He felt like screaming. Yet as he managed to open his mouth no sound appeared to come out. He was not even able to tell. He surely didn't hear anything more than the strange whispers seemingly carried by the wind. His head felt as though it was being crushed with massive force, pushed from every direction. He really needed it to stop, he'd do anything for it to stop and when it seemed he could not take it anymore he felt something break inside. Snap. The pain stopped. Instead he felt something new, foreign.

 _This is the only way I can help,_ the words suddenly audible in the sea of whispers.  _You need to survive._

His neck started to tingle and the feeling intensified. As though he was being stung with needle after needle which all seemed to leave a certain cold in his skin. Like taking a cool shower on a hot day the feeling spread like water over his body. From his neck flowing down, but soon it wasn't only his skin that was experiencing this strange feeling, he could feel the cool presence seep into his very bones, pool in his stomach, permeate him completely.

What's more, with the physical sensation came something else - an overwhelming calm, serenity even. Despite not knowing where he was, what was happening to him, to his body, what the strange feeling was, he was calm and knew it was going to be alright. It felt natural, he felt assured by the presence, knew no harm would come to him, sure of his survival. It felt good, to find this peace in the strange dream.

He could feel his body relax, every muscle, every fiber of him just letting go. Comforted by this new sensation. The strange air shifted, the odd taste now more prominent in his throat, slightly burning him with each inhale. The strange thickness of his surroundings seemed to give and he found himself able to move freely. Reaching out blindly with his arms he felt nothing, nor could he feel his struggle affect the overall direction his body seemed to be floating in. The movement... it seemed to slow down to almost a crawl. The breeze weakened against his skin and had he not been paying attention he most likely wouldn't be able to tell he was still moving.

The air felt almost normal now, even the burning seemed to fade after the initial shock. Along with the strange taste gone was the cold in his body, not a trace of the feeling remained. Only vague memory of the needles in his neck. Now that he was left without those sensations distracting him he could feel a presence. Not a person that could be standing beside him, no, the presence was all around him, seemingly enveloping him, unfocused.

 _It's done. You need to move on,_ came the whispers slightly above the background noise. He associated it with the presence surrounding him.

_Now._

Whatever had been holding him in the air all this time suddenly vanished along with the presence as his eyes flew open. He was falling. Fast. Dropping down towards a swirling vortex of green smoke and light. All he could do was brace for impact as the world went black.

 

 


	2. Five Feet Under

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If feel I got a little carried away with descriptions in this one. Hope it's okay though.

Pain. He really shouldn't be surprised by now. _But really, is that what's going to greet me every time I wake up now? Wait a minute_ , why was he hurting if he really has woken up in his bed.

“Shit,” the word flew out of his mouth. He found he could speak without problem now that he was no longer captive in that strange place. _Must've been a weird dream_ , he tried to explain the whole experience.

Unfortunately, this hardly felt like his bed. From what he could tell he was laying on some kind of stone. As he dragged his hands along it to prop himself up, he felt how dirty it was, his hands caught lots of grime. He could feel a burning sensation, one you'd get from kneeling too long on a carpet. Nothing serious though, his hands must've been scratched a bit during the impact.

“What the fuck?!” He opened his eyes and shouted immediately, surprise twisting his features. He was in some room, a cell really. The walls as well as the floor were made of stone. The only source of light being a small ball of green light hanging in the air. It was quickly shrinking in size, threatening to disappear, plunging his world into darkness. Before it did though he noted it was similar to the vortex he remembered falling towards. _This is a very strange dream indeed_ , he mused.

Reaching for his pocket he found his key ring and attached to it a small torch. Quickly turning it on he got up to examine the room. It wasn't that big really. A few meters across he'd say. The small device casting enough light for him to make out enough of his surroundings.

He jumped back immediately as he noticed a face in the dark. After a while realizing it was just a statue. The person depicted was definitely female, judging by the curves. The statue was... ugly. That's the word that came to mind. It looked very rugged. Beside the fact that it depicted a human woman he really could not tell more. There were no facial features to speak of, eyes merely groves in the gray stone. The head covered partially by a cowl and bent. _Was it meant to be some archetypical stuff?_ , he wondered, inspecting the stone further. The vagueness of it reminding him of medieval paintings. The character was wearing a skirt, or perhaps he should say a robe, tied with some cloth at the waist. Bits and pieces missing from the original shape. Its hands outstretched holding a bowl in what seemed to be an offering. He noted its height and looked down only to see the sculpture placed on a cube-shaped base. _Perhaps a place to leave offerings?_ _But to whom... and why is it hidden away in some cellar_ , he rubbed his neck, a habit he had expressing his lack of knowledge in the matter.

There was something off about the walls as well. They were made of gray stone, overgrown with moss, with intricate designs etched into them. Huge blocks of rock just the littlest bit uneven which pointed to the fact they might’ve been shaped by a human hand. Strangely enough, there was no plaster or anything alike holding the stone together, it just fit tight, held in place by the slight difference in shape each piece possessed.

 _Maybe I just can't see it_ , he rubbed his chin and turned right to inspect other walls

On his right there was a wall with an archway sticking slightly out above the surface of the stone. Carefully shaped elements gave structure to a sharply pointed arch running down to rest upon simple columns, all fashioned of the same stone from what he could tell. The columns seemed to widen towards the base and were cut by groves signaling they weren't made of a single piece of stone, instead placed there piece by piece. The inside of the archway was walled up.

The chamber itself ornate in nature. A strip of mosaic lining the walls around a meter high above the floor. Lines etched into the stone, forming intricate patterns. Twisting, twirling, coming together and splitting, forming shapes resembling... something. The patterns felt almost organic, dragging along the stone as though a plant unfolding. The design was simple, crude even, but there was beauty in the primality. However, the pattern stopped as it reached the archway, abruptly cut as though it was supposed to continue beyond the former passage.

 _It makes sense now_ , he shifted his stance, leaning slightly back and glaring at the wall. _There must’ve been a corridor leading to this chamber, whatever the purpose of it. Why close it though? Maybe I'm reading too much into it and it's just decoration._

While inspecting the arch he noticed yet another piece of architecture. There was a torch hanging off the wall and it seemed perfectly intact, even though it was covered in a little dust.

 _My toy will eventually run out of battery, if only there was a way for me to light this thing,_ placing his hand on his forehead, trying to think of the way he could get some fire going in here.

All of a sudden, he seemed to space out a bit, the world blurring all around him. He felt disconnected, like he was still standing where he was just a second ago, yet a bit further. It was hard to describe, as though reality escaped his grasp the tiniest bit. Before he could try to make sense of this new feelings he saw his right hand rise towards the torch, palm open. What scared him though was he couldn't really feel the movement, as if he was watching someone else move with his own eyes. He felt the same needles from before prickling his neck. Snap. The torch set itself on fire, illuminating the room with much stronger light and giving off warmth he didn't realize he needed, as the cold permeating the place started to affect him as well. Just as fast as it came, the strange feeling subsided, leaving no trace, but the burning torch to prove it was ever there.

 _What the flying fuck?! What happened? Who did this?_ , he asked no one in particular. _Did I?_ , his heartbeat quickened as his breath grew more shallow and rapid. He took a moment to calm himself. _Surely this is some kind of a joke._

 _Guess I won't be needing this anymore_ , looking at his flashlight, he turned it off and pocketed the device.

Looking down at his hands he could not wrap his head around what has just happened. _Did I really just point it at something and it caught fire?_ The explanation seemed simple enough, yet it only brought more questions. _Could I do it again?_   What was that feeling just before he did... magic. The only word that came to mind to describe what has just happened.

He didn't dare snuff out the fire in fear of not being able to replicate his feat. However, he would try to do it again, by himself this time.

Head darting around, he looked for anything that might've been suitable to set on fire. Turning around, behind him was a set of massive sturdy looking wooden door. He immediately threw himself at the door trying to get out of there, push them open, to no avail. The door didn’t budge. Defeated, he returned to looking for something to set alight, as he wouldn't risk it with the door.

 _The moss_ , he thought as though it was the most obvious thing. The only thing he could try to set on fire was the moss covering a large portion, if not most, of the walls.

He raised his hand, palm open, towards the wall, trying to repeat exactly what happened before and... nothing. He realized he didn't know what to do, before there was that feeling guiding him, now there was nothing. He closed his eyes, tried to picture the flames, willed it to happen, nothing. He tried the other hand, nothing. His eyes bore into the wall, if his stare could burn holes surely the moss would be smoldering now, alas it was not effective.

He felt anger rise inside him, he was upset with himself, with his hands, with the wall. He didn't know where he was, how he got there, how to get out, what happened with the torch. He flung his arm out blindly, eyes shut, and he smelled it. The stench of what he'd describe as burnt leaves hitting his nostrils. Quickly his eyes flew open and he saw it, the embers spreading through the moss, leaving only ash and smoke behind. He quickly patted the plant to avoid suffocating in the small cell with all the smoke given off by the cinders.

Anger. That was it. _Not really surprising though_ , he felt happy with himself for seemingly figuring out, what governed this strange new power he appeared to possess.

Calming the excitement still raging within at utilizing his newfound ability. He tried to replicate the feat. Now calm, hands outstretched, he tried to focus the anger once again to set fire to the moss, however this time nothing happened. Frustration grew and soon enough he saw fire dancing along his fingers.

There was nothing logical about it, seemingly as though he had to give in to the sensation to get an effect, wild and beyond control, dangerous. There was no calling it consciously, he had to let emotion rule over him to get an effect. It was good enough for now though. He felt enough frustration with himself to call the flames to his hand.

Keeping the flames in his palm felt strange, they did not burn him, yet it felt exhausting. His breath grew rugged and sweat broke all over his body. He released the spell and had to steady himself against the wall. The weakness quickly passed, but still it was something to keep in mind. If he couldn't keep a few sparks going for even a minute, it wouldn't be of much use anyway.

The inability to sustain the flame adding to his frustration, he tried again. The flames soared higher this time and although he could feel them draining his strength it was easier to bear. He took a swing, testing a theory. He found he could throw them to some extent. A whip of flame extending from his arm, maybe a meter long before it dissipated into the air.

 _Now that I can use_ , a smile crept onto his face.

Nothing left for him to do in the room, he turned towards the door for the second time. Nothing changed, yet again placing his body against the door, he pushed without effect. Taking a step back, he examined the door. They also seemed like something straight out of the middle ages, old wood, oddly shaped, fitted with iron along the edges. Wooden planks held together by nails. Metal stretching from the edge of the frame towards the other side, split by the end. No hinges in sight, they must’ve been located on the other side. Even though the door were clearly moldered, they held strong.

“They must have some weak spot,” he growled in frustration, fire threatening to spill from his fingers. He was seriously considering burning the door down. However, without knowing what was on the other side such a move would be too dangerous.

Staring daggers at the offending piece of wood he felt it again. The strange feeling overtook him, spacing out he observed through eyes that didn't feel like his own as his hand rose yet again, this time aimed at the door. Nervous anticipation filled him as he observed carefully, taking note of every gesture, every move, curious what might happen and eager to try himself. This time the state lasted longer as first his fingers curled inwards calling out of nowhere pieces of stone that seemed to float in the air, gathering in front of his hand. Guided by some invisible force the rock amassed, though it could not could be coming from the room as the stone was different, darker, more rugged. He wanted to turn his head, look for the source of the material, however it appeared he couldn't influence his body in any way.

Resigned to watch the scene unfold he noticed his fingers close completely, forming a fist and the rocks followed, shrouded in emerald glow. Now, a fully formed fist of stone, roughly the size of his own hand, floating in front of his own, his arm pulled back and pushed forward again, sending the projectile soaring though the air. As soon as the fist flew off towards the door he found he could move freely again.

It happened so fast, one moment the boulder was flying, the next it collided with the door. The rock vanished in a burst of familiar green light. A sense he'd seen it somewhere before tugging at his mind.

To its credit, the door did not take that much damage on impact. The wood cracked all around the spot where it came in contact with the spell, but beside that there was no real damage. It was all he needed, however

 _It will crack, eventually_ , the enthusiasm giving him strength to try again.

Trying to replicate the movement he attempted the spell... nothing happened, as expected really. The purpose of this was to get frustrated enough for the spell to work. Sure enough, fueled by the failed attempts, some rock started floating towards his outstretched fist. Although much less steady, pebbles jerking in the air, something started to form. The shaky rock was nowhere near resembling the fist that appeared earlier, yet the disappointment strengthened the casting. He pulled back his hand with purpose and let the rock fly. Although slower, it cut through the air, hitting the door, prompting more cracks to mar the wood.

This time though the spell took a lot out of him. As soon as he relinquished his hold on the fist he felt a wave of weakness wash over him. Black spots danced across his vision, mind swirling, breaths heavy, as his legs gave out under him. He collapsed hitting his ass on the stone floor.

 _Fuck, that hurt_ , he immediately rolled to his side, massaging the place of impact _. But at least it's doable._

Resting for a minute in a heap of his own limbs on the floor he gathered his strength and got up again.

_It's gotta work eventually, just a matter of how long it will take._

Taking the position again, hand up, anger flaring, he conjured the same magic for the third time. The stone seemingly steadier this time around, pebbles gathering faster, forming a bigger shape. As he let the spell lose, he stumbled a little, but he no longer felt like fainting.

 _That's progress I guess_ , he let a grin creep over his face as he prepared to try again.

Each time it came to him easier, the fist appeared bigger as he made steady progress. The door turned out to be much thicker than he anticipated. Eventually, a piece fell off in a heap of splinters, revealing fresh wood inside. It was just discouraging, seeing there was more. Despite it he tried again and again and again.

“It's gonna take some time still. Well, they say practice make perfect,” he forced out in between labored breaths.

Leaning down, hands propped on his knees, he took a moment to properly catch a breath and rest. The fatigue that the magic appeared to be causing was as fast to come as it was to leave. He could manage to send a steady stream of rock at the door if only he paced himself.

_Looks like I’m gonna stay a while._

 

***

 

Another spell let loose. The strongest yet. Contrary to all the previous attempts, a noise could be heard as the doors finally snapped in two. Pieces of wood scattered on the floor as only the iron fitting remained, swinging lazily on its hinges. Creaking noise echoing along the stone corridors laying beyond the frame.

Taking a hesitant step, he stuck his head out first, his body following suit. What met him behind the door was even more stone walls and long halls leading into the darkness. Taking a deep breath, he noticed the air felt somehow less stale out here.

 _That cell must’ve been sealed for a very long time_ , he mused, looking all around for a way to follow to get out of this dungeon. By now he was fed up with it.

While looking around he noticed more torches lining the walls. Channeling the feeling of defeat that seemed to resurface every few minutes the longer he stayed in this place, he sent fire out of his hand, hitting the iron holders. Torches now alight cast some light onto the paths to his side, yet all he could see was more of the same corridor stretching far out of sight, a turn obscuring further view of what laid ahead.

 _Left it is then_ , presented with a choice he took the hall that bent not far from where he was standing.

He quickly made his way towards the turn, lighting any torch along the way. He noticed how it was easier for him to call the flame each time he tried. His steps echoed across the stone wall as he pushed forward, searching for any way out of this place, any door to pry open, any stairs to climb. Judging by the humid air he suspected the whole structure must be located underground.

Carelessly striding along the passageway, he ignored the ever more present threads of silvery white lining the ceiling, filling the corners.

 

***

 

High pitched screech flooded the hall and soon a bloodcurdling scream followed. Accompanied by quick steps... and something dragging along the stone.

_Spiders. Starving in some dungeon cell, five feet under, is fine, but no one mentioned fucking spiders. Priorities, right?_

He burst out of the turn, almost stumbling at the sudden change of direction. Screaming at the top of his lungs he ran from the beast that was following him.

As he made his way back the way he came the thing following him made the turn as well, edging ever closer. Illuminated by the soft glow of the torches lit along the path it was now clear what the beast was.

A spider, but not just any spider, a huge one. Roughly the size of a calf, yet much faster. Moving swiftly along the walls as though it was the floor, surely it saw no difference. A set of ink black eyes trained on its prey, mandibles rubbing against each other resulting in the screech almost as terrifying as the beast itself. The mass of black eyeballs followed by a huge round abdomen, white in color, reflecting the glow of nearby torches. Somewhere from the middle of that pile of gross protruded four pairs of long arching black hairy legs, sweeping the floor with purpose, moving with such speed that they turned into a blur.

He frankly could not tell more from the brief glances thrown over his shoulder as he was more focused on running than taking in the appearance of the beast. There would be time to think about it when he escaped... if he escaped.

 _What do they feed you, you fucking crawler?!_ One foot in front of the other, no matter how hard he was trying, he couldn't put any more distance between himself and the creature.

Fatigue making itself known, his legs started to burn with exertion, muscles straining, encumbered with carrying his form as far and as fast as possible, away from the monster. His heart felt as though it would burst out of his chest any moment. Every single pound in his chest could be felt clearly. Pressure building, he couldn't keep it up much longer. His breaths growing deeper as he struggled to fill his lungs with more air than was possible. Gasping for air like a drowning man, he couldn't get enough.

Terribly out of shape, he noted the door on his right, the sight filling him with hope as he made one last effort to reach them, propelled by the final shreds of strength he was not aware he possessed.

Jumping through the opening, he turned quickly to slam the door in the arachnid's face... or jaws or whatever, only to find that there was no door, pieces of wood decorating the floor as he found himself in the very room he'd left not that long ago.

 _Oh, for fuck's sake!_ Exhaustion knocked him onto his knees as all he could do now was crawl away from the empty frame, away from the creature that was no doubt quickly approaching his poor hiding spot.

Turning onto his backside, groveling along the floor, he soon found his back hit something. The base of the statue blocking his way, unable to move further he started and waited, paralyzed by fear with not an ounce of strength left to try and escape fate.

One hairy leg at a time, the monstrous form entered his field of vision, creeping out from around the corner. Now blocking the entrance, the beast stared intently as though aware it had him cornered. Mandibles twitching in barely contained excitement, some goo dripping onto the floor.

 _Venom_ , he realized. _With its size... one scratch and I'm done for_. Violent shaking overtook his body as utter terror filled his flesh.

Eyes wide open, unblinking, trained on the monstrosity approaching him. Taunting him. Tremors running along his limbs, sweat breaking all over his body, he found himself unable to move a muscle. The spider fast approaching.

 _This is how I'm gonna go, huh? I never imagined... Maybe this way I'll wake up from this fucked up dream_ , the spider lunged into the air and towards him.

All he could muster was to cast out a hand as though that could stop the beast. The prickling in his neck returned once more as fueled by the overwhelming fear, his magic flared up stronger than ever before. A fist shaped boulder forming faster than ever before, green lightning cracking all over the rock. Having seen his chance, he quickly released the spell, praying he didn't miss.

When the spell hit the creature, an earsplitting shriek echoed through the air. Its massive body thrown back, out through the entrance, the force carrying it towards the stone wall of the hallway. The carcass slowly sliding down, leaving a trail of gore in its trail. Its many legs now curled inwards, twitching occasionally, though the beast laid slain.

His form frozen with the hand reaching out, he stared some more, trying to make sense of what had transpired. The shaking seemingly subsiding. The sudden rush of relief washing over him in waves, leaving him slightly lightheaded as the tension in his body dissipated little by little. Features previously frozen in an expression of terror slowly turning to one of relief and eventually indifference. Slowly coming back to normal, his heart still beating like crazy, threatening to burst out of his chest any moment.

Labored breaths coming slower now, he picked himself off the floor, rising to his feet, yet grasping the pedestal for support. He moved towards that... thing to examine it closer, just a little, from far enough.

Carefully maneuvering in order to avoid the insides littering the floor, he slipped out of the room, keeping to the wall in case there was still some life left in the spider. Making point of not touching any of the remains as they might’ve been toxic, considering what he assumed to be venom might be mixed in with them.

Moving as close as he dared, he took a peek. From what he could see it seemed the boulder hadn't vanished on impact, instead soaring right through, leaving a gaping hole in the beast's abdomen, causing its contents to splash all over the hall, ending its existence in a very violent manner.

What was once the beast's insides now decorating the corridor, the puddle of clear slime growing ever bigger on the stone floor, pieces occasionally falling off the wall. Sliding in such a slow manner, leaving behind a wet trail, turning the stone a darker shade. Here and there green pieces of flesh scattered in the mass of goo. The abdomen cracked open like an egg shell, said shell not enough in the end, to protect against a mass of rock, flung at such speed. Light fragments of cuticula distinct among the mess.

“You idiot!” He threw his hands in the air, finally grabbing his head. _You have all this power and you still ran like a coward_ , he dug his nails into his scalp, covering his ears. _I could’ve died, if the instinct hadn’t taken over..._ the gravity of the situation, having sunken in. _How could I have been so reckless?!_

He felt sick, nausea hitting hard. He grabbed his stomach as though that could help calm it. Pondering the situation he barely made it out of. He could still see the spider when he closed his eyes. In those doors, jumping to claim his life, as he did nothing to fight it. He would’ve died a pointless death and he hated himself for it.

Shaking himself out of the gruesome thoughts, leaving the carcass be, he looked around again. The nausea reminding him, albeit indirectly, that soon he will be forced to find something to eat, not knowing how long he spent trying to escape his cell. He had to find an exit and now he knew left was not the way to go. He made his way towards the right hall this time.

”Giant spider, what will come next, zombies?” He spat with sarcasm, disgust twisting his features.

 

***

 

“Fuck! Fuck me and my fucking mouth, why did I have to bring up zombies?!” He shouted out loud, the sound echoing in the vast chamber he stumbled upon.

In front of him stood exactly that, a zombie, as though summoned by misfortune. To be frank, there were a lot of bodies laying around, some skeletons, some desiccated and preserved in the absence of fluid.

The room the only way forward. He could not point to the purpose the room might’ve served at a glance, taking a second look to inspect it further. The walls' design coherent across the hall and this chamber. Some elaborate archways protruding from the surface, hinting that perhaps once it might've been some sorts of crossroads. A hub linking different tunnels together, leading who knows where. Some of the former openings having a couple of stairs in front of them, each located at a slightly different height. The bodies laying mainly near the walls, bent out of shape in a grotesque fashion, as though moved there, arranged.

Originally, he planned to slip by them, causing no disturbance. Happy with himself, almost at the other side of the room, he heard it. An inhuman growl... or a moan, he didn't know for he has never heard such a sound made by a living being. The wallowing seemed to convey pure agony.

Shivers ran down his spine as he slowly turned around. Sure enough, one of the bodies was crawling out of the pile of others. Slowly taking its time to rise to its full height. A maul of iron, covered with spikes that looked rather painful when one came in contact with them, loosely held in its left hand.

Its skin was grey, the color of wooden ash mixed with water. Draped sickeningly over the twisted form of the corpse. Moreover, it was wrinkled and loose as though the insides shrunk themselves, leaving too much space inside, spare clomps of hair sticking out of the scalp, the rest long gone. An ear was missing. The head itself tilted an odd angle.

Eye sockets empty, no eyelids in sight, just two glaring holes of darkness, threatening to pull you in should you stare too long, provided you didn’t get eaten first or whatever the corpse was gonna do...

 _I'll probably be spared consumption, seeing the state of its jaws_ , he mused, the sight gruesome, yet fascinating. Though it affected him much differently than the beast from before.

The mouth hanging open, slightly wider then should’ve been possible were the bones joined correctly within the joint. That was not the case though he suspected. Teeth missing in numbers, blackened flesh of the gums exposed. The remaining ones sharp as scythes, unnatural in shape as though manually sharpened.

Its limbs twisted at different, unnatural angles, yet still able to support the corpse in its upright position. He was sure there was a piece of... something sticking out of its elbow, shreds of grey skin hanging loosely of what appeared to be a protruding bone.

Stomach slashed open, a strip of what must’ve once been the corpse's intestine hanging loosely along its leg. Beside that there was not much inside the abdomen, organs probably scattered somewhere across the floor, having fallen out when the body moved. Perhaps they might’ve even been eaten out by some rats or... the spiders.

Over the gaping hole of its abdomen a rib was sticking out from the side. Bone devoid of flesh, distinct in color, yellowed by time, yet still visible against the shadow inside the empty shell of what was once a man. Here and there chunks of flesh were missing, exposing bone, like the rib, yet the corpse didn't seem to care, moves uninhibited, yet slow.

Hip torn open, the hole surrounded with dark stain against the pale of skin. Most likely dried blood. Knees seemingly broken, the left one bent backwards. Half of its left foot missing, leaving the corpse limping and tilted to the side that was lacking. None of the disfiguration an obstacle enough though as it hobbled steadily in his direction. More bouncing and dragging of limbs, than walking it was edging closer.

Initially calm the panic started to rise within him the closer the corpse got. Guttural sounds escaping its throat. Taught by previous experience though, he reined it in, refusing to let it rule over him and to be endangered again. As he called for his magic instead, growing panic fuel enough to ignite a flame in his hands. He raised a hand above his head as he prepared to strike. Flames rising higher and higher till there was a small column of fire shooting out of his palm.

 _It has to get closer_ , he assured himself, uneasy, sustaining the flame.

When the corpse gets within the reach of his grasp it will mean him getting into its. Nervous waiting adding to the spire of fire.

_Now._

Bringing his hand down with purpose, the fire followed, forming a whip, wrapping around the corpse. What little pieces of fabric shrouding the form remained catching fire instantly, providing enough heat for the dried flesh to catch fire as soon flames enveloped the whole shape, as it staggered backwards and away from him.

As the acrid odor of burnt flesh filled the air, he decided not to wait for any more surprises, making his way to the exit he was previously headed for.

 

***

 

Time passed, minutes, maybe hours, as he wandered the abandoned halls. By trial and error, navigating the labyrinth of stone blindly. Eventually, he stumbled upon a set of stairs that led upwards. He climbed them only to find another level to the deadly maze.

Few more tries, few more turns, few more sets of stairs, he finally saw it. The light. Not just any light, the light of the sun, creeping into a slightly wider chamber by cracks in the walls.

 _This is it!_ Excitement mixed with relief washing over him.

The room was in much worse condition than the rest of the ruins. Cracks in the walls letting in the forces of nature to wreak havoc. Deep crevices making the room feel grim, a testament to the passage of time. Piles of rock littered the floor, probably having fallen off the ceiling. Sturdy roots breaking through the cracks, little by little pushing the stone apart. Water leaking in slowly but surely along the wood. Running down the floor only to disappear into the gaping hole cutting the room in half.

Looking for the light he saw a door almost completely covered with boulders, the way obstructed by masses of stone, most likely pushed in from the outside, as he couldn't see any cave-ins directly above the door.

 _Right, just as I find the way out it turns out to be buried by rock, just my luck there_ , he cursed the situation, looking for a way across the hole, to at least get closer to the door. _One problem at a time._

Edging closer to the brink of the black ominous pit stretching before him, or at least as close as he dared without risking the stone breaking off under his weight, only for him to plummet to sure death. Looking down he could see walls stretching down, but the shadows shrouded everything else. There was no floor in there, no end to the cavity, most likely leading into lower levels of the dungeon.

 _Yeah, I'm not eager to get down there again._ Grabbing a pebble of the flor, he threw it into the pit, listening for any indication of it hitting the bottom. It never came. _Definitely don’t wanna go down there._

Pacing back and forth along the edge, he debated trying to jump across his obstacle, yet not trusting himself to make it to the other side. Staring at the hole, then at the rocks blocking the entrance again he got an idea.

_Why not kill two birds with one stone?_

He knew he was capable of conjuring rock and manipulating it to some extent, but what if he skipped the conjuring part, coming straight to manipulation. If he could do that, he'd be able to pull the rocks from the door and create a safe (relatively) passage for himself across the hole.

 _I always loved a challenge_ , he smirked, grabbing a fist sized rock from somewhere to his right.

Sitting down on the cold floor, avoiding the numerous puddles of water, he placed the rock on his hand, stretching it in front of himself.

 _There's no use trying to be logical about it_ , he remembered his initial attempts at conjuring fire _. I have to feel it._

Searching himself for feelings strong enough to let him move the heavy looking rocks blocking the entrance. _I only got one chance, I fall, I die_ , the realization hit him, causing fear to creep slowly back unto him. The rock floated off his palm, launching itself forward and into the hall. That's not nearly enough, though.

There was a way, although dangerous, it might prove to be exactly what he needed. A gamble with death, really. Contemplating the devious idea, worry creasing his features, he looked down the hole again.

_I don't know how to control this power and the feeling from earlier... unpredictable, unreliable, unless... it could be forced._

Whatever the sensation that had shown him his power, fire and rock alike, it seemed to appear whenever he needed it most to survive. Only once with each spell though, it didn't rescue him when the spider attacked. Hypothetically by placing himself in a situation of impending death he should be able to evoke it. Even to himself he sounded like a madman, the thing he planned only assuring him of the truth in the statement.

 _Well, screw it. It's all a dream after all_ , he jumped forward, now directly above the opening in the floor, threatening to swallow him whole.

As his momentum dissipated, he found himself rushing down, into the darkness _. Maybe it won't come after all_ , he wondered as gravity took hold of him. Air rushing past, whizzing in his ears. Hands flailing in search of a grip, a ledge to get hold of. There were none.

True panic, like ice, chilled his blood. In the last moment it came. Out of it, a feeling of separation, once more feeling like a spectator as his body sprang into action. Hands outstretched, needles in his neck more painful than ever, the feeling spreading through his arms for the first time. Like being cut all over, yet he saw no wounds appear. The feeling seemed to stretch beyond his body as it reached his hands, green glow enveloping them. Booming sound of rock being moved, as the boulders rushed through the air and towards him, passing his falling form, forming a ledge he fell onto.

The pain of impact was nothing in comparison to the burning he felt across his arms. The light, emerald glow shifting and folding onto itself, dancing across his palms growing stronger as the makeshift ledge started to rise through the air, bringing him closer to the light now clear, rays cast strongly over the edge of the hole.

A few more minutes of agony and he was out of the hole, rocks now floating safely over the other side of the cave in. The way was open now, no stone blocking the path he could see clear skies, sun setting. Peace flooding his body.

The strain becoming too much, the feeling left him, the emerald light fading from his hands. _No more pain_ , his last thought as he lost consciousness. Body now limp across the boulders.


	3. The Kindness of Strangers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M NOT DEAD

Last rays of sun fell upon his unconscious form. The light slowly swiping his body as the sun travelled the sky, slowly setting, preparing to hide behind the horizon, bringing the night onto the world. Moving lazily from his chest to his face, across his neck, ever so slowly, the light finally shined onto his eyes. His body stirred as his eyelids flew open, gasping for air, he took in his surroundings. Head darting around as he propped himself on his elbows, still plastered across the boulders.

He was safe, it worked. The crazy idea actually worked. Instead of smiling though he winced as he became aware of the long narrow cut marring his forearm. Roughly the length of his palm a bloody line ran along the outside of his forearm. Dark stain surrounding the wound with lines of the same color running down to his elbow. The blood had already dried, leaving the wound closed. Skin tight, the dried blood evoking a slight pull on the skin as he turned it around to examine the extent of the damage.

_A shallow cut_ , relief flooded him, easing his wince into more of a neutral expression, _must've cut myself on the boulders while falling onto them_ , he sighted, aware he was the only one to blame for the cut.

The area surrounding the wound was red and swollen, the body's attempt at closing the wound. He could see the inflammation has already set in.

_It would do some good to clean the wound, who knows what might've been on those boulders_. However, would it be wise to reopen the would now that it was sealed shut? From experience he knew that such cuts tended to bleed heavier the second time around.

Having no supplies, no bandages, no antiseptic, no means to clean the wound, let alone properly treat the cut, he decided to leave it be for now. The consequences too severe when confronted with benefits.

_Something's not right though. Why didn't that fall wake me up?_ _Also, the cut hurts like a bitch every time I move the arm_ , he stared at the cut with wonder. Still trying to wrap his head around the circumstances, just a touch of worry crept slowly into his mind, yet his naivety not letting him accept that this, all of this, might’ve in fact been real, he chose to hold onto the belief that it was just a figment of his mind. A figment bent on scaring the shit out of him, yet altogether not real.

Deciding to finally get the hell out of those ruins, not feeling safe, he slowly rose to his feet. Careful to avoid any sharp edges, the throbbing pain in his forearm a sound reminder to be aware of his surroundings. He placed his feet carefully, testing every step on the pile of rock, not to let it slip off the surface and into a groove between the boulders. The last thing he needed was a sprained ankle.

With no grace, yet safe, he managed to crawl his way over the pile, finally standing in the door. Walking through them he felt the cold breeze wash over him, relishing the fresh air. Smell of grass and trees, forest, invading his nostrils. He breathed in deep, enjoying the freedom. Taking a few tentative steps, he turned around to examine the structure he has just made it out of.

In front of him he saw a hill, not too high, rising from the ground surrounding him only by a few meters. The hill was covered in tall grass, a few trees scattered across it. Yet there was no visible architecture above ground. The structure fully concealed beneath it. Even the entrance was easy to miss, had one not been paying attention. Clusters of particularly high grass rising along the entrance cutting into the hillside.  A simple stone frame, devoid of the intricate patterns gracing the walls and archways of the ruins, leading inside the mound, into the darkness. The waning light of dusk not enough to illuminate the interior structure of the vestibule.

With his back turned to the door, he looked around, searching for any sign of civilization. A landmark, a building, a road, anything really. Yet, there was no such thing in sight. The only thing surrounding him was the forest, thickening in the direction he was facing. Trees becoming more numerous, taller, obscuring the view of the land stronger, the further he tried to look. It was clear he found himself at the edge of the Wilds. He had no intention of going in there, as he would probably get lost in the forest, perhaps never to find his way out again.

Yet he stared in fascination at what he could make out from this fair distance. The trees looked dark, yet not due to the setting sun, but rather the bark seemed almost black in color. Thick roots rising of the ground in elaborate patterns, weaving together, creating arches and wrapping around smaller trees, evoking a slightly brooding atmosphere. They reminded him of an octopus' tentacles, stretching across the forest floor. If he stared long enough, he could swear he saw them move a couple inches across the ground.

_Impossible, right?_

Another thing building the ominous vibe was the lack of leaves. Each branch bare, every tree devoid of leaves, the forest seemed dead. Even more creepy was the fact that although he could not feel or hear any wind, the branches seemed to be waving around in a lazy manner, moving back and forth with the nonexistent rush of air.

_Right, that's not the way_ , he tried to shake off the fear that threatened to return after the events of the ruins, _I can do without the extra thrill_ , he shifted from foot to foot, running a hand across his other arm.

Having decided to go the exact opposite direction, he made his way towards the hill. Hoping that climbing it will provide him with a way to see further, beyond this forest. If not though, he'd still go over it, just to get away from the creepy trees.

Climbing the steep slope, he made his way to the top. Head darting around he found what he was looking for. Not far from where he was standing the trees gave way to the field. Patches of high grass and grain stretching far across the land, a river running through the countryside, and beyond all that he could see a small town with a windmill towering over it.

_Bingo._

Making his way down the hill, step by step, slowly following the direction he set for himself, he could see the forest getting thinner. Slowly, but surely the distance between the trees seemed to increase as the way seemed lighter, numerous rays of light passing through the thick of branches. Leaving the creepy darkness behind.

Having reached the bottom of the hill, he lost sight of the little town and the windmill, yet now that he knew what to look out for he could hear a faint shimmer of the river in the distance. Provided he'd find the river, he could easily follow it until he reached the city, hopefully avoiding trouble and finding shelter having reached the city.

Time seemed to flow differently while he stumbled around between the trees, he felt peaceful. Something that seemed almost foreign after the mad rush of adrenaline he experienced being trapped in that dungeon. Trees dancing in the actual wind, not the creepy imitation he was leaving behind. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a bird chirp from time to time, disturbing the ever-present silence that he's been engulfed in up until then. He slowed down his stroll to actually take time to breathe in and appreciate the beauty and peace he was graced with.

With every step bringing him closer to his goal he noticed the sound of the river got awfully loud. It was more of a roar now. Looking around, the trees seemed scarce and younger, he must've reached the edge of the forest. Few more steps and he saw it.

The river of crystal-clear water swirling across the countryside and disappearing into the horizon like a huge snake taking a nap in the sun. The sloped bank where grass gave way to sand seemed so inviting. The sand was light, clean, dry from being slowly heated by the sun the whole day. The water was clear and transparent, flowing swift and strong, glistening in the sun now high in the sky. Sparkles dancing across the surface of the water stirred by the strong current. Droplets of water, a silvery mist, being cast into the air as the water hit the smooth stones, opposing its flow. From time to time a fish could be seen, following the current and disappearing into the swirling mass of water.

Slowly approaching the bank, he could already feel the cool emanating from it. With the sun high in the sky, its warmth making itself known, he wanted to just splash some of the cool liquid onto his face. Maybe drink a little.

He knelt in the pristine sand and slowly lowered his hands into the water. The current was strong, something to be warry of. He quickly gathered some water into his palms and splashed it onto his face, enjoying the chill. Few more splashes. He then took a careful sip of what he gathered in his arms. The water was really cold yet tasted fresh. There was no way to say if it really was drinkable, however he gave in to his thirst against his better judgement. Gulping down mouthful after mouthful he was oblivious to the danger he was in.

A blood curling shriek tore through the air. As his heart jumped to his throat he instantly turned around, getting up from his knees and stumbled away from the river. The timing perfect for where he had just been sitting now a curved blade was sticking out of the sand. Gripped by a terrible... thing. For it looked nothing like any creature he knew existed.

It was roughly the height and shape of a man. Though it was no man. Its skin pale in a sick manner where in the light of the day the pallor seemed to gain a green tinge. Veins of black running underneath the skin, a stark contrast between those tendrils of darkness and the otherwise bleak creature. Skin stretched across the bald head reminded him of a slightly more rounded skull.

Its eyes... the eyes were empty with no pupil nor iris, just milky uniform white, only a tone brighter than the ghostly skin. Sunken in their sockets. Though it seemed impossible the creature could clearly see him, stumbling away as it turned its head in his direction and looked. It didn't just look at the rough area where he was, it looked directly at him. Its torn nostrils flaring, sensing his fear. Random pieces of ragged flesh sticking out at the sides of its head, where ears were supposed to be. Everything about the creature seemed broken and wrong.

As it opened its mouth he could see razor sharp canines lining its edge. There were no lips, just smaller patches of the sickly white skin hanging of the edge of the gaping jaw. Probably remnant of when the creature tore into something paying no attention to tearing up its own flesh in the process. What's more, now that the jaws were opened a strange darkness could be seen oozing out of them. In stark contrast with the bright sun, tendrils of oily black slipped out from both the jaws and around its eyes, only to dissipate having lost contact with its source. It truly looked as though the creature was weeping black tears that floated away for a while only to vanish in the light.

The rest of its form was just as wrong. Limbs seemingly human, yet oddly proportioned, sometimes twisting at angles beyond what should be possible. All in all, feeding the feeling of wrongness surrounding it.

The body was clad in an ill fitted set of armor. If it could be called a set... It was more of random pieces worn together. The metal had numerous dents, rust creeping over it. Jagged edges and sharp turns speaking to the inability of the smith. To be honest it looked like random plates of metal barely fitted to the form, just enough to be strapped onto it.

The blade being yanked out of the sand was as crooked as everything else about the monstrosity. Black in color, most likely from blood never washed off. Flakes of rust falling off the blade. Its shaped resembled a hook. Perfect for wild, uncontrolled swings for it was sure to catch the victim. Though again it was imperfect in its making. Fashioned by unskilled hands and raw. Raw and wild and wrong, like everything about the creature was.

The mere act of seeing the creature made his skin crawl with fear.

_Woah, woah! What IS this dream?!_ though looking at it, it seemed oddly familiar.

Crawling away so as to get up on his legs, he tried to put as much distance as possible between himself and the creature, though it gave him no chance. He could almost feel the blade sinking into his flesh as swing after swing made a wave of air hit his back in unison with the whoosh of metal cutting the air.

Gathering his courage, focusing his fear just like time and time before, it was so easy now... Familiar needles prickling his neck as ice cold fear spilled over, cold sweat and raw power spilling down his arm as evidenced by the tingling he summoned the boulders in his defense. Emerald glow once again enveloping his palm as sand and dust thrown into the air started to condense. Dust into pebbles, pebbles into rocks and rocks into boulders. Soon there was a piece of rock floating by his palm as he hopelessly tried to flee the creature. Not daring to stop for even a second in order to aim, not daring to even turn, he cast his hand out blindly behind himself and let loose the spell.

Shriek. Bingo. The tiny victory only a slight comfort in the face of his panic.

The creature shrugged the attack off. Though it stopped in its track and stumbled a step backwards it didn't get flung into the air, didn't break or die, unlike the creatures in the dungeon. Only slightly surprised by the minor, fist sized dent in its already worn-down armor, it quickly focused back on its prey. Jaws slightly ajar in a creepy grimace alike to a grin.

He threw another spell at the predator and another and another, but all they did was put some more small dents in the armor and keep the creature in its place, though in the moments it took him to gather his strength again it seemed to be getting closer. Only a few feet away now, he was getting desperate. Panic setting in as his arm was starting to burn, clearly protesting at the influx of power coursing through it, summoning the rocks. His body could not stand the pressure and strain of dishing out magics at this rate. One last try and he took off again. Fueled by adrenaline running faster than ever in his life. Though it was still not enough to escape the monster.

Ducking behind a fallen tree, crouched low by the trunk he had to take a breather, able to run no more. It took mere seconds before the creature was hacking away at the wood. In the flurry of motion, his arms flailing, the blade caught his flesh. Blood spilled from his forearm, spraying the wood, the ground and the creature, which only seemed to urge it on. Fueling the bloodlust. Though the cut was shallow, red liquid was steadily running down his arm.

_Ugh... Think... You can't outpower it, outsmart it!_ he desperately tried to get out of the situation.

A tree slightly standing out from the rest caught his eye. Overall darker and moldering it offered away as a slight glimmer of hope came to life in his mind. He quickly ran over and put the tree between himself and the creature. As expected, the hectic swings soon echoed off the wood.

The burning in his arm now slightly more bearable he gathered his power once more and released the rock at the tree, point blank range. The wood being in the state it was - gave. As soon as the creature managed to look up the tree was falling.

Thunk.

The ground shook just a little, small tremors travelling across it, making the leaves slightly shimmer in the background. The monster laid overwhelmed with the massive trunk keeping it down. Wild shrieks and violent jerks of its body a proof it was far from being done with him. It could not be left alone like that.

Channeling the now very real pain in his arm, he summoned fire, pushing every ounce of his strength into the column of flames he sent at the monster. As fire danced and spilled across the creature, the worn-down wood soon caught fire leaving the beast no way to escape its fiery death. The pungent odor of burnt flesh filled the air as the last few violent shrieks died down and the burning corpse laid limp covered with the smoking wood.

Falling to his knees, he tried desperately to calm his raging heart. Still trying to come down from the rush of the situation. Adrenaline rushing through his veins. Trying to make sense of the situation he pushed it all down. No time for that now. Vague memories tugging at his brain of what the creature was. Realization still out of his grasp.

As the fight or flight response subsided the pain now prominent in his forearm made itself known. Blood running freely down his hand, he inspected the cut, finding it not deep enough to be a threat, yet still quite long - enough to cause worry.

Without thinking much, he made his way slowly, still shook - his breath quite ragged, to the nearby stream. Sticking his whole forearm into the water in one fluid motion, he gritted his teeth, letting out barely audible hiss at the unexpected sting as the water made contact. The brisk current made quick work of the wound. Long stripes of red stretching down the current as water carried away all stale blood and dirt stuck to the cut.

Looking around for a makeshift bandage he quickly realized that he’d have to use what he has on him, literally. His clothes were the only clean piece of cloth around. Inspecting the plain t-shirt, he found a stripe that was least dirty from his tumbles in the dungeon and tore it off, leaving his clothes in a sorry state - ragged edges and stripes making a poor job of completely concealing his body.

Deciding against washing the cloth - the wetness would only stop the wound from closing - he carefully dried the cut as best as he could and wrapped the material in a reasonably tight manner, putting just enough pressure on the cut. He tied the makeshift bandage and inspected the dressing. It was as good as it’d get.

Standing up from his crouch by the water he knew that with such things lurking in the woods he undoubtedly needed to get to the village before nightfall, now even more so than before. With new strength behind his step he followed the river down and hopefully towards the village he had seen.

After a second though, he cast a last glance towards the smoldering corpse, the odor still unbearable. To be more precise his gaze fell upon the blade laying a foot away from the corpse, the blade now a lighter color - reflecting light as the fire burned away all the stale gore previously covering it.

_Should I?_ he entertained the thought. _Nah_ , he resigned himself to leave the weapon behind as he had absolutely no idea how to handle a blade, besides with his injured arm he’d be no good with it anyway.

One more thing caught his eye though, a flicker of light as the sun caught a small object on the ground beside the sword. A small slightly tarnished silver coin laying there, probably dropped by the creature, though what it would need a coin for was unknown to him. Another one not too far away, he picked up the shiny objects and examined them more closely. The coins were of a round shape yet not perfectly circular in their making, also the markings on them seemed foreign. He could not tell what currency it was for it did not correspond to any he knew of, yet he decided to keep the coins as they would surely come in handy.

Casting a quick glance around the ground so as to make sure there was no more money laying around, he set out to reach the small town before dusk. A dull pain he quickly dismissed settling in under the layers of cloth covering his wound.

 

***

 

_The world is spinning, why is the world spinning?_ looking around the world seemed to be floating. Every sharp turn of his head sending everything into a spin. Times and times again he had to grab onto a tree to steady himself as his sense of balance was far out of order. All the spinning making him nauseous, yet he managed to keep his stomach from turning and pressed on so very close, the various buildings of the settlement in sight now.

Step after step he neared the town. He was running a fever from the looks of it. Perhaps in this town he'd find some help. If the dizziness was any indication he had to act fast, because he clearly was at a risk of fainting. One more thing he noticed was the fact that every time he grabbed onto a tree with his injured arm it hurt much more than it was supposed to... but then again he has never had a wound like this so he could not tell anymore what was to be expected and what wasn't.

The sounds of the river so much louder now... just a few more steps and there he was at the edge of the small town. Trees gave way to loose patches of grass and eventually plain dirt - before him laid a dirt road leading into the town

_A dirt road, huh? What is it, the middle ages?!_ the humor not leaving him despite his dire situation. He could feel himself growing weaker by the minute.

The dirt road seemed to lead to a small stone bridge set over the river that has led him here. Just over, on the other side he could see people rustling around what he could only assume was some kind of a main square.

Putting aside the weakness plaguing him for a while, he felt joy at finally reaching the town as perhaps he'd finally get some answers here ... maybe even some help for his wound. With unsteady steps he crossed the stone bridge and entered the town.

To his right a tall stone building stretched from the ground. At least a few stories high it undoubtedly towered over other nearby buildings. Blocks of stone held in place by crude wooden columns the building looked nothing if not medieval. Yet in comparison with the nearby... huts it almost seemed ornate. Looking at it through the prism of other nearby constructions it was apparent great care must have been given to its constructions. Windows high and narrow, few and far in between, were made out of pieces of stained glass of warm hues. The myriad of reds, oranges and yellows, which overall seemed to mirror the sun with numerous rays of light stretching from it, must have created a lovely atmosphere inside the building, especially with the waning light of dusk delicately dancing across the glass surface. All in all, the building seemed to save a religious purpose – it looked like a church, yet he could not see any signs or symbols associated with a religion known to him. The only recurring pattern was this ball of sunlight. Now that he looked closer the same symbol was etched into the gateway arch guarding entrance to the yard in front of the building

Starring at the building it escaped his notice that some people were starring back. In fact, most of the people in his immediate vicinity as well as those only passing by seemed awfully interested in him. Whispers and concerned glances were what followed him around. Taken aback by the sudden attention he took his time to stare back, only then did he see the people, really see them or rather their choice of clothing. They were wearing what looked like rags and linen fabrics to him. Dirt clinging tightly to the edges of shirts and dresses alike, dust settled firmly on what had never been white, giving the people an overall filthy appearance. What caught his attention even more were two men wearing... armor, full plate metal armor of shining metal with small dents and scratches telling a story of its use. The men were whispering, pointing in his direction with their heads, their arms moving to rest on the hits of some serious looking blades. Having noticed the attention and wanting anything but to stay in the center of it. He stumbled away as fast as he was able to.

_My clothes!_ it dawned on him. He was wearing your regular modern-day garbs and quite clean if he could say so himself. It was not too hard to see how he might attract attention seeing as he was practically glowing in comparison with the people. The fact his clothes were missing stripes used for the bandages did nothing to avert the curious eyes.

Having crossed the bridge, he noticed yet another peculiar construction in front of him.

A windmill just outside the main square. Standing tall on a hill, overlooking the settlement it was made of stone and wood, same as the pseudo-church before. The color alone setting it apart from the wooden constructions, all around it. Tall and looming, worn down with its blades bearing holes and tears - time did not spare it, yet over so slowly with a barely audible creak it was turning.

 

***

 

There were more people in the square than in front of that temple and so he could blend in a little bit better, but even though the whole square wasn't staring, people still moved out of his way. This allowed him to have a clear view off his surroundings.

In the middle of the square there was a well, a very old-looking well with a wooden arch, wooden windlass, rope and a wooden bucket hanging above it.

At the edge of the square there were many wooden buildings. single story, plain wood. Taking into account all he has seen they were probably the villager's homes. Here and there, both in-between and in front of the buildings stood barrels and wooden crates, worn down by the weather. To be honest everything was worn down. The wood dark and rotten in places with mold taking hold in the corners. The conditions were terrible, yet the people did not seem to mind. Where he could barely stand the stench of... he did not even want to think about that. In all this chaos everyone was going about their everyday lives unbothered.

_Where am I exactly?_ he mused. _Are these people so poor so as to lead such... existence?_

There seemed to be structure to the madness as he quickly noticed a couple Merchants selling their goods at some makeshift stalls. There was a butcher, a man of powerful stature, with animal sides laying on the bench in front of him.

_That can't be healthy._

There was a middle-aged woman with a stall full of groceries. Apples, pears, pumpkins, carrots, greens and so on... Carefully laid out in front of her. Then there was an elderly woman sitting on a stool a little bit to the side, grinding something down in a mortar. Various plants hanging on a string from a stand a couple feet away.

_This is my best bet for some medicine I guess,_ he resigned himself to seek help from the strange looking woman.

As he was growing weaker, he had to pay attention to his feet so as not to stumble and fall. Looking at the ground he failed to notice the person he walked into. A small bump and they were both on the ground, trying to get their bearing. Going immediately for an apology he was cut short by the girl herself stammering out an apology of her own.

“I'm so sorry, I should’ve watched where I was going”

"No good, sire. I was not careful enough. Please forgive me," she bowed not looking him in the eye.

Before he could say a word, she was already getting away.

“Wait!” he grabbed her hand and felt a rush of electricity run up his arm

His eye shot wide open as did hers and that's how he knew she had felt it as well. Her eyes slightly worried now, yet she did not run as though awaiting the next question.

“I think I might need your help,” he mustered what he could only hope was a pleading smile.

“Fine, but not here,” her gaze softened as she properly took his hand and led him through various alleys in-between the buildings.

“My name is Bethany, sire. May I ask yours?”

“Ah, of course, sorry. I' m Anthony. It’s a pleasure to meet you Bethany and stop calling me sire.”

“It's only befitting someone of your status,” he could swear she blushed a bit at that, but at his confused stare she quickly added “It's obvious you're nobility, serah,” she motioned at his clothes and now it was his turn to blush.

Each lost in their own thoughts, Bethany led Anthony to her home

 

***

 

“Mother! I'm home and I brought a guest,” Bethany screamed excitedly as soon as she was through the door.

“Oh!” the woman, Bethany's mother, emerged from a nearby room and quickly gave a curtsy upon seeing Anthony's attire.

“Please! Stop! I'm no nobility as your daughter assumed. I’m Anthony,” he extended his hand to the lady.

“It's a pleasure to meet you then Anthony, I'm Leandra,” her features visibly eased after the introduction. “Please sit, can I offer you something?”

“A cup of water would be nice,” it dawned on him in that very moment how hungry he was. It was dark outside and he didn't remember the last time he had something to eat. His stomach grumbled as Leandra came back with a cup of what he had to assume was mead and a few slices of bread and cheese, setting the plate in front of him.

“You look sick, young man. You need your strength,” she answered at his questioning stare. Too hungry to think how touched he was by the gesture he dug straight into the food. Consuming everything hungrily both the plate and mug were empty.

Having emptied the plates, feeling sheepish he quickly stuck his hand into his pocket, digging around until he found what he was looking for. The silver coins he looted of that beast.

“I don't know if it's much, but that's all I have, please take it,” he offered the coins to Leandra in his outstretched hand.

“Don't be ridiculous boy. If I wanted you to pay for it I would’ve sent you off to the tavern, ” she exclaimed angrily. Her gaze softened though as she closed his hand around the coins and smiled. “Keep them. You'll need them more than we do.”

As her hand made contact she frowned yet again, she quickly put her palm against his forehead. “You’re feverish. Bethany grab some cold water and a rag,” she motioned at her daughter.

“Where am I?” he asked taking advantage of the women's attention

“Well, you're in Lothering, of course,” she smiled a sad smile at him

_Lothering_ , the name was all too familiar, it finally dawned on him, everything, where he was, what happened, who these people were, why it all seemed so familiar.

He looked at the woman in front of him - gray hair neatly pulled back, ivory wise eyes, pale skin - the same as her daughter, though her daughter’s eyes were amber and her hair black they looked very much like the character models he knew so well.

_How come I didn’t realize earlier I was taken in by the Hawkes?!_

The world was spinning again and it wasn't the fever this time. He was shaking, cold sweat breaking all over his body. With a thick lump in his throat he felt as though he might throw up any moment. The reality of his situation finally sinking in.

_I'm in the goddamned Dragon_ Age, he didn’t know if he should start laughing or crying. He started shaking even worse than before.

“Oh Maker, I think you're even worse than I thought,” Leandra gasped having noticed his state.

He quickly snapped out of the mild panic attack at the comment, but in the back of his mind his thoughts were racing. Ruins, giant spiders, armored men. _Templars,_ and he was apparently a mage. The implications of what would've happened if he hadn't moved out of their sight. The creature, _a darkspawn_. _Which meant... the cut!_ he knew why it was hurting so bad.

The pain wasn't from the cut itself. He had the Taint coursing through his veins. A million thoughts rushing through his head at that very moment all the while he tried to find those that mattered. Something to help him or else... he swallowed the bile rising at the thought... he'd die.

_Unless..._ well he was a huge fan of Thedas and its lore back when it was all still just a fantasy to him. Oh, how he wished to come visit it then but never could he have imagined it would come to pass. And to be honest he'd prefer it under different circumstances, not to be picky.

The only way known to him to survive the Taint was the Joining. In any other situation he'd never even consider it as he knew the price every Grey Warden must eventually pay. But he was desperate now with his own life on the line he found he preferred those couple more years of life than none at all. The only question that remained was where he would find a warden that could and would let him join the order.

He had to look at the facts here to try and figure out the timeline. He was never good at remembering dates so asking either Leandra or Bethany would do him no good. He had to base his calculations on the order he knew things should happen in. He’s read enough fanfiction so as to know that there was no script in these kinds of situations and fate was in fact not set in stone. He only knew how things could have played out had he not come here and there was no telling for how long that knowledge would remain reliable or even relevant. He could only hope he hasn’t damaged the timeline in any major way yet.

The facts... the Hawkes were still in Lothering and that must mean the Fifth Blight hasn't consumed the town yet. But the darkspawn in the woods and the lack of the male members of the family around the house could mean only one thing. Ostagar was about to happen or even might have just happened. That would mean the future Hero of Ferelden will soon start their journey and thus become his only chance. Two things were sure at least - he didn't have much time and he couldn't stay in Lothering any longer.

“You have to do something about this fever,” once again Leandra fussing over him snapped him out of his contemplation.

“Why would you show such kindness to a stranger?” it hit him as he tried to stand up from his seat by the table, swaying on his feet only the littlest bit, grabbing onto the table for support, Bethany quickly rushing by the door to help steady him.

“It's hardly much of a kindness to offer a sick man and a guest in my home a piece of bread,” she smiled in a motherly way and even though it was a sad smile it held empathy for him.

“Besides, my daughter trusted you enough to bring you home and I trust her judgement,” the smile turned mischievous as Bethany coughed and her cheeks turned red.

“Mother!” she shouted.

It took him a while to grasp what had happened here but when he did his own cheeks turned red as they all broke out into laughter, his a bit weak in comparison due to the fever.

It reminded him of home, of his own family.

_What happened to me there? Have I died? Have I gone missing? Will they miss me?_ all the questions were too much for him to dwell on at the time. He could only allow himself to focus on one thing - he had to find the warden and he had to survive.

“I have to go now,” he straightened himself. “But there is one thing that you could tell me that would help. I know it might seem weird, but it would help me a great deal to know it there is a Qunari in the village,” he blurted out.

As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted choosing to ask that particular question. If memory served him right the circumstances that led to Sten's capture weren't exactly... pleasant. He murdered a family of farmers with his bare hands in the shock of losing his sword. Most likely the Hawkes knew these people and perhaps the families might have even been friends - to mention the murder and so soon after it happened was in fact very insensitive of him. Perhaps even dangerous as any associations with the Qunari might cause the people to turn on him seeking ill-placed revenge.

The warm and welcoming atmosphere soon turned cold with unsaid words hanging dangerously in the air. The motherly care seemed to evaporate from Leandra's features replaced with poorly concealed anger and hurt. The wrinkles adorning her cheeks and forehead grew deeper and more pronounced as her lips tightened into a thin line. Eyes darkened, she informed him the beast, as she called Sten, was no longer in Lothering and that it had left not long ago with a group of travelers passing through on the Imperial Highway.

With the mood soiled, which showed even in Bethany's face, he made no delay to leave. Raising from the chair he made his unsteady way towards the door, the fever causing him to stumble, but this time no one helped him nor did anyone make a move to stop him. Their compassion clouded by his possible connection to the murderer.

Standing on the doorstep he turned over his shoulder in order to warn them about the danger approaching from the wilds. As Lothering was soon to be consumed by the Blight.

Swallowing hard he tried to make himself sound as serious as possible. To drive home it was no joke.

“Ostagar fell,” they must've already figured that out from the occasional survivors passing through the town. “The Blight will soon swallow Lothering. Take whatever you can sell with you and leave. You'll need the money,” he cast his eyes sideways and added, “when it gets here every second will count, if you're waiting for someone to return be prepared to leave at the very sight of them. Or should it come to this - at the sight of darkspawn.”

Without waiting for their reaction or further questions he left the house.

It was already dark outside, but he had no time to waste. Barely remembering the way Bethany led him down so as to reach the Hawkes’ house, he stumbled around the alleyways finally reaching the main square. Setting his eyes onto the grand windmill looming dangerously over the town from above up the hill, now merely a silhouette against the dark night sky, its shape only discernable by the stars its form obscured.

The town was preparing to fall into slumber. No people in the streets, only faint sounds coming from the tavern occasionally interrupted by a louder shout. Tiny windows leaking candlelight onto the moonlit street. The very portrait of a small yet peaceful town.

_Poor souls..._ he thought making his way towards the highway as the mixture of emotions brewing inside finally took on the form of regret clear in his features.

Passing the cold metal cage that looked like it could fit two people top to bottom and a few more left to right. Making his way past the last of wooden fences as quaint as the town itself, destined to meet the same fate. He disappeared into the night, leaving Lothering behind.

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, thank you for taking your time to read my story.
> 
> This is my very first fanfic that I decided to write down and put out there. Any feedback is welcome, especially reviews and constructive criticism.
> 
> If you liked it please leave a kudos and feel free to comment to let me know what you think.
> 
> English is not my first language, so please bear with me and feel free to point out anything that seems weird. 
> 
> I should post a few more chapters shortly, as soon as I type them out, but they're already planned out.


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